The Lemon Party Association
by glue-n-daydreams
Summary: Bella has always been shy, quiet, and secretly bisexual. When an opportunity comes out of the blue, she doesn't know how to react- reject the invitation and continue her quiet life, or change everything in one night? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Heyyy sweetie :) beware! - lemons, angst, lemons, lemons...er, yeah? And language. First chapter is kept pretty clean, but from here on out, dear lord...**

* * *

><p>The party was about to start, and I wasn't dressed. I wasn't closed to being dressed, or showered, or anything else. Because I was sitting in the middle of my bed, head in hands, slowly mumbling all the reasons why going would be a total disaster. I'll share.<p>

1) I am clumsy. I'll drop things. Spill things. You know? I'm a rhino in a china store. I burn myself every time I make coffee. It's actually ridiculous, to the point where my mom had me taken to the doctor to check why I was missing both any equilibrium or hand-eye-coordination. She delayed me getting my driver's license for as long as she could on the grounds that I was likely to kill someone. And _she's_ meant to be the irresponsible one. She only relented when I saved up the money (with help from my dad, and a severe discount due to the fact that the car I ended up getting is a shitbag) and left for university.

Bear in mind that I'm still mumbling to myself.

2) I talk to myself when I'm nervous. I babble. Like now.

3) I am a _virgin_. This party -if we can call it a party, I doubt there's going to be much dancing- is not designed for virgins. I'm twenty one, I'm legal, it's all good, but I highly doubt this is an ideal environment to lose it. I wish I'd been one of those promiscuous people in high school. I suddenly feel bad for any negative thoughts I had about girls who slept around at Forks High. Really, they were champions. I'm the homebody nervous wreck over here.

4) With the exception of Jessica, Jessica was a fuckin' downright hoe bag.

5) I'm sorry Jessica. But remember when we did cheek swabs in bio? And one of your 'cells' from your mouth was moving, and you got really freaked out? And then we found out it was _sperm_?

6) That's how I found out about blow jobs, by the way.

7) Alice suggested I go. Alice is a hippy vegan. She is, by my carnivore reckoning, insane. If she thinks this party is a good idea, it is nota good idea.

8) I only want to go because- because I'm curious. But I think I'm more scared and nervous than curious.

9) I'll stick out like a sore thumb. I know I will. This party is based on very exclusive tickets, and the fact that I won one -and I have no idea how I did- means that everyone else is going to be college elite. Frat boys, sorority girls, the sons of politicians and the daughters of pop stars. Rich spoilt elite brats brandishing golden tickets, perfect hair...perfect bodies.

10) It's probably too late now, anyway. The clock is ticking. I have to either get up the nerve to attend this crazy gathering, knowing full well what they intend to do with each other, or stay here all night and get yelled at by Alice.

I glance up at the clock and hold my breath as the minute hand shifts forward.

Do I go? Or do I stay here, where it's safe, and familiar, and not intimidating?

Am I scared, or am I curious?

* * *

><p><strong>So what does our sweet little Bella decide to do, dear reader? Tell me in a review ;)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, it turned out that I had more guts than sense- not a usual state for me, it's true. Where was the stiff upper lip of the Swan family? Where was the cool-headed reverie that had made my dad Chief of Police in Forks? It was all shot to pieces.

The crux of it was that this party came with a strict oath of confidentiality. I knew that wasn't airtight- people could still hold grudges, and prejudices, but given that the fine for breaking the secrecy of anything that occurred at the party was well in the six figures, I doubted anyone would bother. Maybe it was only my way of thinking because my family had never swum in money, but I thought even the richest of the other people attending would thrill at the idea of legal anonymity.

I had never been openly bisexual. I had never told anyone save for Alice, who understood that I wasn't ready to really face it. I used to think, quite horribly, that I was glad that at least I didn't solely like women- in that case, I'd have had a much harder time, rather than being able to also have attraction to men, and thereby give a rather convincing performance of being straight. But it hurt, just a little, it stung when I couldn't flirt with anyone I liked- for one, I was a terrible flirt in the first place, and secondly, the people I was attracted to were few and far between. I was shy. It took a lot for me to open up, and when someone came along that I wanted to break out of my box for, I would freeze up in terror at the thought of slipping up and revealing myself, and I would avoid them, and feel awful and ashamed.

But for tonight, I would be safe. I was young. I was _horny_. Not just horny for sex (that too? My head was a mess)- I was horny for life, horny for freedom, horny for everything that I sealed away about myself. it was exhilarating to admit. It was frightening.

I stepped out of the shower, carefully towelling myself off, and looked myself up and down in the mirror. I lived with my room-mate, Lauren, who had the mirror installed. She was vain, vacuous, nasty even when she didn't have to be. Pretty. I had a bit of a crush on her, but I kept it to myself (surprise!). She was blonde and thin, with manicured nails, and she avoided me just as much, but her reason was that I was 'lame'. Daughter of a police chief who always followed rules, never swore, obeyed every sign and instruction...I could see her point, but I thought that I was a rather good balance to her disorganised, haywire life. She reminded me a little of my mother, which was uncomfortable, but we had a routine, and we never argued about the bills, so all in all, we did pretty well. If she had a boyfriend, she would always take him somewhere else.

And there I was, in the reflection. I wasn't as slender as I was in high school: there were curves at my hips, at my chest, that had never been there before. I was never sure how to take my slow, gradual development. It had taken a long time for my body to settle into itself, but I decided that I quite liked the end result. I had C-cup breasts- not very large, compared to some girls (I knew several F cups, and they intimidated the hell out of me), but they were still big when seen in proportion with the rest of my body.

I decided, with a deep breath, that it didn't matter if I was late. It didn't matter what I missed. If I was going to attend this party, I was going to do it right.

I stepped back into my bedroom, and opened the wardrobe wide, looking through the contents as I blow dried my hair and paced across the floor. You'd have thought that I'd have nothing for a party, wouldn't you? But Alice Brandon was, for a reason I couldn't quite fathom, my best friend. All the presents she gave me for my birthday and for Christmas were clothes: dresses and shoes, for the most part, and the occasional accessory or make up.

So maybe, instead of politely keeping them in their wrappers, I would try them. See how it went.

What would I wear? I decided on blue. Blue was a colour I knew looked good on me- it was one of those vague bits of Alice's advice I kept in mind on the rare occasions I went shopping for clothes.

I stepped out of the flat clean and dressed and climbed into my beat-up Sedan. I felt a little embarrassed, sitting there all dolled up. I waited for my car to judge me, every little grain of rust raising a sardonic eyebrow at my dress and my shoes and my make up and asking me what the hell I was thinking.

I carefully followed the driving instructions I had printed. What surprised me most was where it was going to be held- the Cullen House. Not the Cullen's house, you understand- that was some glass-and-steel mansion buried in the rural area that spread out east of the university I attended. The Cullen House was a gallery, or a show house, or a cinema, or even a catwalk- it was designed to perfectly exhibit anything and everything, for a fee.

It made me a tad uneasy. Who had set up this party? The rich kids were an obvious choice, but I'd never credit them for thinking to invite someone like me. Whoever was pulling the strings offered ultimate privacy, ultimate hedonism, and it all came without a price tag attached. The guests, including me, were going to be the exhibition.

Hell, maybe it was just an elaborate joke with the term 'exhibitionist'. Sometimes people had more money than sense, after all. I brushed off my worry and focussed on driving safely, my mother's aching distrust of my driving skills motivating me to be as attentive to speed limits and other traffic as possible.

It was quite dark, and cold, and the roads were salted to prevent them from freezing over. Instead of stars, the sky above was a dark orange haze from fumes and city lights. It seemed like some kind of man-made storm, static and pungent.

I parked my car in front of the Cullen Exhibition House and stared at it though the scratched windscreen. It was a huge grey stone three-storey building with columns, and wide, curved windows- all of which were curtained over tonight in thick, velvet curtains, as was usually done if they were screening something. I had actually been here, once before, for my birthday. I had gone with a few friends to see an artistic indie film which was about two hours too long, but hilarious once I realised I shouldn't take it as seriously as it took itself. However, I didn't remember the doors like they were today. They had been a set of bullet-proof glass doors with blinds, but those had been replaced with what looked like a safe vault door, cut in a rectangle, heavy and silver and gleaming in my headlights. I got out of my car and an automatic light above the door turned on, shining electric purple onto the sidewalk. I stared at it, transfixed, and then looked around, grabbing my bag with my ticket inside and locking my car. I took a tentative step towards the door, and jumped back when the light flashed orange. Was this a warning? Was I unwelcome? Worse, had I messed up the date and time?

"STATE YOUR NAME."

The voice was deafening, and a loud shriek emanated from the loudspeaker as someone turned down the volume. I couldn't see where the loudspeaker - or intercom, or whatever - was, but it was somewhere by the door.

The light flickered orange again, impatient.

"STATE YOUR NAME." The voice demanded, low and female and smirking, and dissolved into giggles before shutting off again.

I looked over my shoulder nervously, gripping my bag. My stomach was sinking. My mouth tasted bitter. I was such an idiot. Of course. Of course they'd invite the Chief of Police's daughter to a thing like this. I didn't have money like them.

I was there for them to laugh at.

There was no way in hell I was going to give them that satisfaction. I turned my back, taking a deep breath, trying to stop the blush rising in my cheeks. So embarrassed. I'd heard about stories like this. Dammit. And I thought I was smart.

_This is what happens when you think with your v-_

Dammit.

I took a step to my car.

"WHOA! (_screeeeeeech_) Whoa, whoa!" The voice was different- male, Southern and nasal and smooth. "Hey there, little lady? I'm sorry! Don't go! We didn't mean to scare you off! _Will you fuck yourself, Rosie_- Listen, sweetheart, we ain't scary, alright?" A warm laugh. I turned back, eyes narrowed.

"Thaaaat's right," the voice answered, pleased. They had a camera out front, too, then. That...was smart, but also a little creepy. Elitist. Crazy and over-the-top and powerful. "What was your name again, sweetheart? Don't worry, we won't bite...much."

"B-Bella Swan." I hoped I could get this over with. Maybe with my pride mostly unscathed.

When the voice came back on with a crackle, it was deeper with relief. "Yep, you're on the list, hon. Sorry about the security, we've had...y'know, a few unexpected guests try and wiggle in. Ah, well. Good. How about you come in here outta the cold? Ticket out, of course."

My curiosity ate at me.

The door clanked heavily as it was unlocked. I could hear hollow echoes emanating from inside. At length, it finally spun open, and I stepped away uncertainly, unsure of what to expect.

The doorway revealed an empty hallway lit by dim yellow bulbs. I remembered that, at least.

"H-hello?" I stepped forward, looking into the hallway. I couldn't see anyone, and the doors that I thought lined the corridor had been removed, or at least well covered for the night. I stepped inside, grateful for the warmth it offered. The corridor was long, painted white, and soulless.

"Inside? All inside?" the friendly Southern voice asked. I turned quickly, and now I could see the camera and the intercom in the hallway that were watching me.

I raised a hand. "Yeah, hi, um-"

I jumped as the door slammed closed behind me. They must have done it electronically, controlling it from wherever the Southern voice emanated, but it was still thrilling, and just a little magical. I should have felt like a rat in a maze, but it wasn't like that- it felt as though I were stepping into a gift. I held up the ticket to the camera lens and heard a cheerful pinging sound down the hallway as a set of elevator doors opened.

I glanced at them, and took the hint. The hallway was long, and I wondered if the camera was now still on me- still watching my back as I walked. I stepped inside the elevator and hesitated, looking for the button panel. But no, no need for that, either- they weren't leaving anything to chance. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, it began to rise, without any interference from me. My stomach was in nervous knots.

What would I see when the elevator doors re-opened? Was I ready for it? I wanted to be.

I wanted to be.


End file.
